Fight For Survival
by xMeganful
Summary: Attack after attack, we struggle to survive. The fight for justice and survival never ends. Rated T/bordering M.
1. Chapter 1

My eyes drift slowly open, a steady heartbeat filling my ears. The pain of a needle fills my inner elbow and a thin white hospital gown covers my body. Confusion fills me as a blonde woman slouches in a chair beside the bed I lie in. Why am I in a hospital?

"Hola. Mi nombre es Sarita Abalos. Estoy con la policía. Cuál es tu nombre?" she says, sitting up straight. I recognize a couple words as Spanish. Her green eyes watch me closely.

I croak, my throat sore, "Hola...uh Español?" _("Hello...uh Spanish?")_

"Sí, lo soy. ¿Es usted?" she replies, pulling a notepad and pen from her jacket. I see she has already written some notes, though I can't understand them.

"Uh..." chewing my lip, I search my mind for the few Spanish phrases I know. "Me...Inglés." _("Me...English.")_

She asks, pointing to me, "Nombre?

I remember learning that _nombre_ means "name" in the few Spanish classes I had a in fifth grade. Digging through my brain, I say whatever I can remember, hoping it'll help the woman - who, judging by the golden badge on her belt, is a cop - help me find out why the heck I'm in Spain.

"Me llamo Georgina Hudson. Doce años. Americana. Um...porque...uh...en España?" I sigh, leaning back in the bed, exhausting my Spanish vocabulary. _("My name is Georgina Hudson. Twelve years. American. Um...why...uh...in Spain?_"_)_

"Gracias, Georgina." she smiles sympathetically. "Vamos a llevarle de vuelta a sus padres en los Estados Unidos pronto."

Though confused by most of her sentence, I return the smile. She leaves quietly through a door in the far corner of the small hospital room. I close my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to relax. My memory is heavily clouded and the last thing I can remember is walking home from school. My head aches, as does my entire body. Cuts, bruises and burns cover my arms and hands. God knows what the rest of my body looks like.

What the hell happened to me?


	2. Chapter 2

**I've slightly edited this chapter since it was first posted.**

* * *

My body jolts awake as a woman enters the hospital room. How long have I been here for - two, three days? I release a small sigh, realizing it's Sarita. She comes by every now and again and attempts to ask me more questions or tries to explain how I was brought to the hospital. From what I can understand, a woman found me on a road and called an ambulance when she saw blood. I died at one point but the doctors did CPR. They didn't think I'd ever wake up, but a few weeks later, I did.

"Hello, Georgina." Sarita smiles, sitting on the chair beside my bed.

Her English isn't amazing, but I get the idea of what she says sometimes.

"Hello." I reply, pulling myself to slowly and shakily sit up. Pain shoots down every limb.

"Me...hablar con la...police...in America de hoy." she says slowly. Pulling a notepad from her jacket, she flips through the pages. She shows me a small white page that has a single sentence written on it.

_Police in New York want to talk to you on the phone, yes?_

I remember telling Sarita yesterday that I'm from New York. She must have remembered and contacted them.

I look up at her and smile, "Okay."

After a minute or so, she hands me a small touchscreen phone. The ID says NYPD and I listen to it softly ringing.

"Benson." a woman answers firmly.

I swallow my anxiety. "Hello?"

Sarita says, "Detective Benson? Este es el detective Abalos." _("Detective Benson? This is Detective Abalos.")_

"Sí." the woman replies, "Es Georgina con usted?" _("Yes." "Is Georgina with you?")_

Sarita continues, "Sí. Ella no habla mucho español." _("Yes. She doesn't speak much Spanish.")_

"Inglés?" I hear, which I know means English.

"I speak English." I say before Sarita can answer. "I'm Georgina."

"Hi Georgina. Can I ask what your last name is?" she asks, and I'm relieved to hear a language I'm familiar with.

"Hudson." I reply, "Georgina Hudson."

"Okay. Well my name's Olivia Benson. I'm an NYPD detective. How old are you, Georgina?"

"I'm twelve." I answer, deciding that trusting her is probably my best shot at getting home.

"Do you know why you're in Spain? Do you remember going there with anyone?"

I sigh, "I honestly have no idea. The last thing I remember is walking home from school. In America."

"What school do you go to?"

I set the phone on the duvet, my arm beginning to ache. "I go to Lakeview Elementary. I only live a few blocks away so I always walk home in the summer, when it's light out." my thoughts suddenly turn to my family. "Oh my god, have you called my mom yet? Sarita said I've been here for weeks...my mom doesn't know where I am. Can you call her? Let her know I'm okay? Oh god-"

Olivia assures me, "I'll get my partner Nick to call her now, okay Georgina? We'll let her know you're safe, but you gotta answer my questions so we can fly you back over here as soon as possible."

I inhale a deep breath and shakily release it. "Okay, Olivia. What do you need to know?"

"Can you tell me, what's the last thing you remember?" she asks softly.

Racking my brain, I reply, "Well, parts of my memory have started to come back. I remember...a really big room. It was really dark and there were a lot of men...there was another girl...she was like, eight."

After a few moments of silence, she asks, "Can you describe the room?"

"Yeah, um, it was like a big garage. I remember seeing a car in there. I kept focusing on it..." a shiver runs down my spine and I grab the phone, pulling it close to my chest. I lower my voice so only Olivia can hear me, despite the fact that Sarita probably can't understand most of what we're saying anyway. "They raped me, Olivia...I remember the pain...the pain I'd never felt before because, you know, I'm a virgin. But this morning, I went to pee, and...I saw the damage that they'd done." I could feel hot tears burning my eyes and running down my cheeks. Hot tears that I didn't even realize where there until now. "And that's when things started coming back to me."

I pull the phone and the duvet up to my face, trying to block out everything expect Olivia's voice. "Okay, sweetheart, did you notice anything distinct about the car you saw? Like a number plate or a sticker?"

"Yeah." I say. "The number plate was...FAE595...I don't remember the last number, sorry."

"Georgina, I'm going to need you to tell me if you remember anything else that might help me find out who did this to you. I need you to think really hard for me, alright? Anything that maybe you don't see very often?"

"I know you want to track down who did this, Olivia; it's your job to. I don't really think I want to know, though." I admit, nerves filling my stomach and my chest becoming tighter as each second ticks past.

She hesitates for a moment, as if deciding what approach she should take. "I know you're scared, Georgina, but I can't protect you from the guys who did this to you unless you help me catch them."

I purse my lips. "If you get me back to America, I'll tell you. As long as I'm here, they can get me, and they probably really don't want me talking to the cops. Please, Olivia, just get me back to New York." I can hear the desperation in my own voice. I hate being so vulnerable, but what choice do I have?

"We'll get you back here soon." she promises.

I almost smile. "I hope so."


	3. Chapter 3

The morning after my phone call to Olivia, I'm grabbing the couple tops, jeans and underwear the hospital provided and folding them into a gym bag Sarita gave me. I admit, I'll miss Sarita; she's been a great friend the last week or so. I might not always understand her but I know her intentions are good, which means a lot to me considering the situation.

An hour before leaving, I strip off my hospital gown and find a full length mirror on the back of the hospital room's bathroom door. I stare at my reflection, my body somewhat pale, but mostly an array of different colors. Places that were previously burnt are now baby pink, places that were cut are slowly turning into fresh scars. My hair is cut to different lengths; some places to my ears, some places past my shoulders and some places to my scalp. I step closer to the mirror, my fingertips gently touching my face. My left eye is darkened with bruises, my forehead in stitches, a large thin cut across my cheeks. I truly look like I've been through hell.

Stepping into the shower, I turn the taps on and warm water covers my body. I wince and scream as the water finds new wounds. My palms flat against the wall and my eyes closed, I stand under the water until I hear Sarita calling my name, asking if I'm okay. My legs are shaking when I feel the water being turned off and a towel being wrapped around me. She guides me out of the shower and I fall to the floor, my legs collapsing under me. Bringing my knees to my chest, I cry until my face is red and my head throbs with every breath. When I look up again, I pair of clean clothes is next to me and Sarita is gone. I dress silently in front of the mirror, dreading the looks I'll get from anyone and everyone I pass for the rest of my life.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Poco chica" means "little girl"._

* * *

I fall asleep during the car journey from the hospital to the airport. Though when I woke up, I really wish I hadn't.

"Hey there, _poco chica_." a man's voice says through the darkness. I know exactly where I am as soon as I open my eyes; the dark room I had told Olivia about. "Thought you could actually escape me? Go to a cop? What was they're names - Sarita and Olivia?"

My hands are cuffed to the brick wall behind me, my clothes ripped and barely still covering me. I shiver as a breeze blows past. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the darkness and I see a man approaching me. Beside him is a woman being half-dragged towards another set of metal chains on the wall adjacent from me. Her hair is dark brown and she looks like she's in her early forties. It's not Sarita, so it has to be-

"Olivia!" I call to the woman. Her eyes snap open as the man chains her to the wall opposite me. She must be maybe four or five meters away. Her eyes find mind and I slump back against the cold wall, knowing it _is _Olivia. "I'm so sorry." I mumble, my eyes filling with tears; she wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for me.

She lifts her head and I finally see the bruises on her face and neck. Looking at me with frightened eyes, I can only assume she knows what's about to happen to us.

The man walks towards a small lit lamp across the room. It lights the area just enough to see whoever is a few meters in front of you, but not the exit. At least this time it's only one man; I only have one attacker this time.

We only have one attacker this time. I wonder what happened to the eight year old girl I was with before.

"Are you okay, Olivia?" I ask softly.

"Georgina?" she replies, her voice hoarse.

I sigh, "Yeah."

"I'll get us out of here. My squad, the entire NYPD - they'll find us." her dark eyes still have a flicker of hope in them.

"How did he find you?" I ask, somewhat savoring the moments of calm before the storm of pain and violation.

"He was going to hurt you if I didn't come alone." she replies slowly.

Frowning, I huff, "He was going to hurt me anyway. He still is. Only this time, he gets to rape you too."

Her body immediately tenses up at my last sentence. She's a cop; surely she hears about rapes all the time. Or was she raped herself?

I narrow my eyebrows at her, "You've been raped before, right?"

She doesn't look away, like most people do, though the whites in her eyes become tinted red. "I've come close to it."

"Let's keep it that way." I reply firmly, an idea forming in my mind.

_This woman's never been raped. I refuse to be responsible for the one time she is._

The man returns before Olivia can say another word. We're both slumped against the wall, cuffed. He grabs her by her shirt and pulls her to stand, though even I can see her legs are too weak to hold her up. He begins to try and undo her belt.

"Hey, douchebag!" I yell, which seems to get his attention, "Yeah you!"

"Shut your mouth, _poco chica_." he growls.

"Why don't you shut it for me?" I slowly pull myself to my feet, every muscle and inch of skin protesting. "You wanna rape someone, why not me? You can screw her any day, but a twelve year old?" I taunt, "I'm forbidden fruit, don't you get it?"

He gives an ugly smile that makes my skin crawl. Dropping Olivia to the floor, she groans. The man begins to assault me, and as much as I hate it, I'd rather me and her. She just watches, shocked and helpless, as I suppress crying and screaming for him to stop. If he stops, he goes after her instead.

The man only stops when he's panting for breath, god knows how many hours later. The most he ever does to Olivia is yell at her, or the occasional slap which might leave a mark for a week or so, but nothing too bad. I steal small moments of happiness whenever I can, like when I think of past memories with my parents or my baby sister Judith. Moments where I'll see that Olivia has passed out and she doesn't have to watch what he's doing to me. I refuse to let this man steal my happiness altogether.

Eventually, after what feels like days, as I watch the vile man sleeping in the corner by the lamp and I watch Olivia lying on the floor asleep, I hear yells of men outside the room. Yells that I know belong to the NYPD when I see Olivia awake and look at me, her eyes filled with hope.

"You know them?" I ask, a smile on my lips.

"My squad." she replies, though she looks far from happy. Traumatized, perhaps.

Thankfully, the man doesn't awake until NYPD are pulling him up from the floor and telling him he's under arrest.

"Liv?" one of the men from NYPD yell, rounding the corner where me and Olivia are chained. In the dim light I see his hair is short and dark, his eyes filled with relief to see Olivia alive. He looks down at me and seems shocked.

"What? Got something on my face?" I say, raising my eyebrows.

"No-um," he stutters, pulling off his NYPD jacket and covering my naked and abused body. Another man, who's skin and hair are darker, passes Olivia's friend a key. He undoes our chains.

"Fin, you get Liv." he tells the other man, who helps Olivia up. She still remains silent. "I'm Detective Nick Amaro. What's your name?"

"Georgina Hudson." I reply, using Nick's arm as support to walk. "You Olivia's partner then? She mentioned you."

"Yeah, I am. How long have you been here for?" he asks, still seeming fairly shocked.

"I don't really know. Few days, weeks, months perhaps." I shrug. "I suppose most people are breaking down by now, huh? Guess I'm just too far gone."


	5. Chapter 5

One Week Later

I walk into the precinct feeling anxious for the first time since I left the hospital in Spain. Thankfully, Sarita never got hurt and Olivia only received a few bruises on her face and neck that would be gone in a couple weeks. I came out with a few broken ribs, more stitches, bruises and covered in fluids and blood, but emotionally fine, much to most people's shock. Doctors told me it'll sink in after a few days.

The guy who kidnapped us and raped me is a thirty six year old man named Charlie Fishling. Nick said he'll get the death penalty, so I won't have to worry about him again. Nick also said he got Fishling to tell them where the eight year old girl is and she'll be okay after a few years of counseling and support.

Olivia sees me almost immediately when I walk into her squadroom, as do most people. I've already seen my picture on the front of news papers, claiming I'm a hero for stopping a guy raping a cop. Honestly, I just didn't see the point in there being two victims. If I took the abuse instead of both of us, it just made life easier for one of us.

I push the thought away when Olivia smiles at me and beckons for me to sit on the chair beside her desk.

"Georgina, how are you?" she asks, seeming a lot better than when I last saw her a week ago.

I return the smile and sit down. "Don't worry about me." I assure her, though when I catch of glimpse of my reflection in a window, I see the bruises and cuts she must be concerned about. "They'll heal." I say, gesturing to my face.

"I meant emotionally." her lips press together into a frown. "You've been through a lot."

"Haven't we all?" I shrug. "Doctor recons I'll break down soon enough. I'm just kinda...numb to it all. It's like it's some kind of messed up dream and eventually I'll wake up to my alarm clock ringing. I'll get dressed and go to school and you'll just be that cop I read about in the paper a couple times."

"I know it's a lot to take in at once." passing me a small white card from her jacket, she says, "If you need to talk, call me. Any time. Day or night. I mean it."

I take the card and smile, "I never thanked you for coming to help me...even though you knew what you were getting into. I could see it in your eyes...you were terrified. The only reason I stayed together...stayed strong...was because you were there. So...thank you."

"You stopped Fishling from raping me and the price was that you were raped instead." she pauses, "I've had to do that before...he was too much of a coward to rape me, but I risked it to save someone else, and it's something that nobody should have to do." I assume she's talking about that man who kidnapped her twice before...Lewis, was it? I read about it a couple months ago. A little girl had been kidnapped by him too.

Olivia presses her lips together for a moment, "My job is to protect victims and put rapists behind bars-"

I interrupt, "But that doesn't make you invincible. You're human, and we all have our demons." shaking my head, I say, "So quit trying to blame yourself. I made my decision and I don't regret it. I'm a victim either way and I'd rather you wasn't too."

We remain silent for a moment.

"I'll make sure we nail this guy." she assures me with a crack of a smile.

"Olivia? Have you gone over Fishling's file oh-" I follow the voice to a redhead woman in the doorway of the squadroom. Her eyes bright, she smiles at me. "You must be Georgina Hudson."

"Yeah. That obvious?" I laugh.

"I'm Assistant District Attorney, Casey Novak. I'm sorry about what you've had to go through." she says sincerely. It feels nice to hear a genuine comment about my assault that isn't filled with guilt or pity.

I reply, "Just give the bastard the death penalty."

"If not, he'll get life. There's no way he's gonna walk." she assures me, and I'm glad. She smiles, "See you in court."


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, standing outside the courtroom during recess, I overhear Casey Novak and Olivia talking.

"He could plead insanity." the redhead says, somewhat angrily.

"Can't Huang test him?" Olivia asks, who seems concerned. Could my rapist actually get away with kidnapping and a dozen counts of assault with a slap on the wrist?

I turn to the two women and purse my lips. Casey immediately sees me and Olivia quickly follows her gaze.

"He will get life, right? Or the death sentence?" I ask, though I'm not entirely sure I want to know the answer.

"If the judge does believe that he's insane, then he'll be put in a mental institution. I'm going for a needle in his neck by the end of the month, though." Casey explains.

Olivia assures me, "Either way, he's not gonna walk."

"It'll make our case stronger if you testified against him." the ADA says. I inhale and exhale sharply.

"Done."

* * *

I look ahead into the eyes of Casey, instead of my attacker. Feeling all eyes on me, my last meal threatens to resurface.

"Miss Hudson, could you please tell the Jury the events of the day in question." her voice is much firmer than before.

I try to swallow my anxiety and keep my focus on Casey as I reply, "I awoke in a dark room chained to a wall. Everything was very familiar; I knew I had been there before but I didn't know where it was. I saw a man dragging a woman towards me and he was talking about how I had spoken to Olivia and Sarita about previous...events." I pause, focusing my breathing for a moment.

"Detectives Olivia Benson from NYPD Special Victims Unit and Sarita Abalos from the Spanish police unit." Casey explains to the Jury. I remember what she had told me only half an hour ago; to just talk to her, like I was talking to Olivia or Sarita, and not an entire courtroom full of strangers.

"From what he was saying, I assumed he was dragging either Olivia or Sarita towards me - where there were more chains. The woman didn't look like Sarita, so I called out Olivia's name and she responded. We had spoken on the phone the previous day, so I knew her voice when I heard it. We spoke for a moment while the man was out of earshot. She told me about her previous assaults-"

"Relevance, your honor!" a man beside my attacker calls out, who I assume is his lawyer.

"Is this relevant in anyway, Miss Novak?" the Judge asks.

Casey replies, "It is, your honor. Hear her out."

"I'll allow it as long as relevance is proved." the woman announces and Casey nods for me to continue.

"When she told me that she hadn't been raped before, I told her that I wanted to keep it that way. Knowing that I had already been _raped _a month prior to the night in question, I knew either way I was going to be a victim. I didn't want Olivia to be a victim too, so I _provoked_ him when he attempted to undo her belt. He raped me instead." tears prick my eyes, "I don't know for how long...but I just kept reminding myself that while he was _violating_ me, it was another second that his hands were away from Olivia."

"Miss Hudson, is the man who violated you in this courtroom today?" the ADA asks. I nod and gesture my head to Fishling, not wanting to even look at him a second longer. "The people would like to clarify that Miss Hudson is gesturing to the defendant. I have no further questions."

Casey sits back down at a desk a few metes away and Fishling's lawyer stands up and approaches me. This is the part I've been dreading.

"Miss Hudson, it is possible that your provocative behavior influenced Mr Fishling's actions?" he asks, his voice deep and firm, almost endearing.

"Yes, that was my intention." I reply, remaining very cautious of every word I said, as it a single wrong word was venomous.

"Do you think it's possible that Mr Fishling was mislead by your behavior and presumed you consented?" he continues.

"No, I don't. I distinctively told him to _rape _me instead of Olivia. Even if I had consented, it wouldn't have mattered since I'm under the age of consent." I scowl, quickly becoming annoyed with the man.

"How was Mr Fishling supposed to know that you're under the age of consent, Miss Hudson?"

"Is there a proper question I can answer?" I snap.

He raises his voice, "Did you lie about your age?"

"No, I didn't." I hiss back, my hands balling into fists in my lap.

The man suddenly relaxes, though I don't trust any move or word he makes. "Did you, Miss Hudson, blackmail Mr Fishling into having sex with you so you could claim that he had raped you?"

"No, I didn't." I say through gritted teeth. Is this guy seriously insane? Blackmail? What next, I raped him?

"I have no further questions." he finally says, and I can finally relax as I leave the courtroom.

I burst outside as soon as I find a set of doors. I sit on a step halfway down the large staircase. Breathing fresh air into my lungs improves my mood, and for a moment, I feel peaceful.

"Georgina? How did it go in court?" Turning, I find Olivia walking down the steps towards me. She perches on the stone step beside me.

"I hate lawyers." I sigh.

She replies, "There's no way any Jury would believe that he's innocent after hearing what he did to you."

I look up at her and ask, "Then what?"

"Then you start getting your life back." she smiles, "I've seen hundreds of rape victims, year after year, healing from the damage some else has caused them. They don't just survive, they thrive."

"I know about what happened to your mom, you know. My grandmother used to live in her neighborhood when you were born. I only remembered her name this morning...Serena." I explain, though Olivia seems tenser. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned her.

"She was a drunk...maybe she didn't want to survive it...maybe she just wanted to forget about it altogether." she says softly.

"But it doesn't work that way." I sigh, my chin on the balls of my hands and my elbows on my knees. "I don't want to forget. I want to remember that I won and he lost...that he can't take anything from me because he's dead or rotting in cell until he's dead." tears begin to roll down my cheeks, because he did take from me. He did something completely unforgivable and I'm the one who has to suffer. I have the label of _rape victim _over me for the rest of my life and I can't do anything to change that.

"Once, I went undercover in a women's prison. There were reports of women there were being raped by male prison guards. One of them forced me into a basement and...sodomized me." she winced at the memory. "My colleague, Fin, was undercover there too. He got there before the guard could do anything else."

"Did you ever recover from it?" I ask.

"With counseling, yeah." we sit silently for a while, knowing there wasn't anything to do except wait for the verdict.

My mind refused to stop racing with thoughts of what Fishling had done to me, what Olivia had seen him do to me, what he did to me without me knowing. I found myself crying into my hands and then into Olivia's arm as she hugged me, telling me it's all over now and I can recover.

In that moment, I truly believed it.


	7. Chapter 7

Olivia's called to the stand shortly after my breakdown on the outside stairs. My mom sat down beside me after Olivia had left, handing me my baby sister to keep my mind away from...everything.

"Hey Judith," I smile down at her. She sleeps quietly, wrapped in a pink blanket. My face feels hot against the cool summer breeze blowing by.

My mom smiles, "She hasn't been this quiet for weeks."

"Guess you missed me, huh?" I say quietly. We sit quietly, my mom knowing I'm not in the best state of mind to talk about what happened in that dimly lit room with Fishling and Olivia, and I welcome the silence.

* * *

After what feels like forever, I hear the words I've been both dying and dreading hearing.

"The verdicts in," Olivia tells me and I'm passing Judith back to my mom, dragging myself back up the stone staircase and to the courtroom. I find Casey beaming outside the doors.

"Guilty for two counts of first degree kidnapping and one count of first degree rape." she announces, "And a needle."

I've never been so happy to hear that someone I barely know is leaving the world.

"Thank you," I breathe.

Her look of believable empathy returns, "You deserve justice."

I smile, "I wouldn't have gotten it without you, and Olivia, and Sarita. You could have easily turned away, but you didn't."

"Cases like yours shouldn't be turned away." Olivia replies.

"Guess you're right." I agree. "So onto your next case, huh?"

The ADA nods.

"Good luck."


	8. Chapter 8

Seven Weeks Later

_September._

_The last time I went to school, I was pulled into an alley on my way home, drugged, kidnapped, tortured and raped. Everyone in New York AND Mexico know about the whole ordeal; it was splattered all over the news for weeks here and in Spain. From what I've heard, Olivia's been getting crap about how she let a rapist rape a little girl instead of her - a cop. _

_Why do they care about what happened anyway? They're just making our lives worst by constantly reminding us that we were put through hell. _

_Sometimes, this world really doesn't make any sense._

* * *

_First few week of school:_

_It's goddamn horrible._

_People stare. Won't go near me. They back away if I go anywhere near them. Some of them call me a slut. Rumors says I'm pregnant. Teachers treat me like I'm broken and are constantly asking if I'm okay, or if I need to step outside for a moment if I so much as sigh. _

_My parents are getting a divorce; my dad can't handle knowing what happened. My mom thinks I'm going to cry every other hour. Judith is the only one who doesn't treat me differently._

_I haven't spoken to Olivia, Casey or Sarita for months. I still have Olivia Benson's card._

_Maybe I'll call her tomorrow._

* * *

_I couldn't call Olivia. I tried, I really did, but my hands wouldn't stop shaking. _

_She was there when it happened the second time. She's the only one who saw what he really did._

_I stopped her from getting raped. I helped her dodge her huge bullet._

_But the bullet ricocheted. And I'm not bulletproof._

* * *

_Things have taken a turn for the worst. _

_Doctors warned me that when it all did sink in, it'll hit hard. They were right._

_I'm plummeting through the ground._


	9. Chapter 9

Det. Olivia Benson

I shift through pages and pages of paperwork that still need to be filled out. Glancing at the clock, it reads 07:23. Monday morning's always pass slowly.

The phone rings from beside me and I bring it up to my ear.

"Benson."

Quiet sobs and short breaths come from the other end of the phone. I glance across my desk at Nick, who's giving me a concerned look.

"Hello?" I call softly. "This is Detective Olivia Benson from Special Victims." Switching the phone to speaker, I see Amanda and Fin looking up from their computers and papers. "Are you okay? What's your name?"

"Olivia-" the voice is panicked, but obviously young and female. I almost recognize it.

"Sweetheart, what's your name?" I ask. Nick's calling for someone to trace the number; I just got to keep her on the line.

"Oh god-" she gasps, "I'm sorry." the call goes silent.

I look to Amanda and Fin, who are as puzzled as I am. "Hello?"

"Liv," Nick calls from the doorway, his eyes alarmed in realization. "That came from Georgina's cell."

I stand, grab my coat and start down the hallway. Nick follows behind me into the elevator, pushing the ground floor button as I pull on my coat.

"What was that about?" he asks, though he's as concerned as I am. My eyes stare straight ahead, my mind racing.

I reply, "I don't know."

* * *

At Georgina's house, I tap my knuckles on the door. Mrs Hudson answer the door after a moment, her features darkened with lack of sleep and her dark hair unkempt.

"Olivia," she says kindly with a small smile.

"Is Georgina home?" I ask, nerves filling my insides.

The woman's smile fades, "No, she just left for school. She insisted she walked with her friend Lexie; said it was too beautiful this morning to be driven."

I reply, "What's Lexie's last name?"

"Uh...Lexie Matthews. She lives at seventy-two." she points to the house further down the street.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson." I turn to leave, but her hand on my shoulder stops me.

"Is Georgina in some kind of danger, Olivia?"

"We don't know yet. I'll let you know if she is." I promise. She gives me a concerned smile before shutting the door. We start down the stone pavement towards Lexie Matthew's house.

Nick says, "You think she'd lie to her mom?"

"It must've hit her hard," I reply, "There's no telling what she'll do."

* * *

When I next check the time, it's 08:46.

Mrs Matthews said she drove her daughter to school, which Lexie confirmed, though she said and her mom swore Georgina wasn't with them. The headmaster of Lakeview Elementary said that she never showed up for school this morning, which records prove and other teachers agree. Mrs Hudson promised to call if Georgina returned. Officers are checking streets and alleyways between her house and school.

As I watched the time on my phone tick over to 08:47, it begins ringing.

"Benson." I answer, pressing the phone to my ear. Georgina's heaving breathing on the other end of the phone makes my stomach lurch.

"Olivia?"

"Georgina," I say gently, "Where are you?"

"I'm in some alley." the girl replies bluntly. "Ugh, my head hurts."

"Do you know which alley? Can you see maybe a shop or signpost?"

She hesitates before saying, "You don't want to find me. It's not a pretty scene."

I walk the streets, my eyes searching for alleyways. "I've seen much worst, Georgina. Just tell me where you are."

"Why? So I can go back to school and get called a whore and treated like I'm broken glass? Or so I can go home and listen to my parents screaming at each other about how _they don't want a damaged daughter_?" I listen to her cries over the phone.

"Georgina, listen to me. If you tell me where you are, I promise we'll talk about making things better. I've seen victims-"

"Victims?" she screams, "That's all I am - a victim? If it wasn't for me, _you'd _be a victim, so don't act like everyone who goes through hell is fragile and weak _victim._"

I stop in my tracks as she goes dead silent. The phone still buzzes with life, but she is silent. Looking for the nearest alleyway, I find one across the street with two large dumpsters.

Crossing the street, I say, "Being a victim doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're a survivor. Being a survivor means you're alive; you got through something really tough but you're still alive. It doesn't mean you're weak." I hear ragged breathing as I approach the dumpsters. The call ends, but I can still hear her.

"You know what I don't understand about you, Olivia; you're always so damn hopeful." she sits against a brick wall, a penknife in her hand and her forearms covered in blood and cuts. "When we were chained to a goddamn wall with threats of rape over our heads, you were talking about how your squad will find us, but all I could think about was how he was going to rip apart every inch of happiness within me in just a couple minutes." she sighs, "I was already broken, but he wanted to destroy me."

I crouch down a meter away from her, "You survived the attack. You'll survive the recovery."

"You really believe that?" she asks, fiddling with the penknife in her hands. I watch it, hoping that she wouldn't want to hurt me with it.

"Yeah, I do." I reply, looking at her cuts. I'd guess self-inflicted. "Sometimes, we don't always have control over what happens to us, but we do have control over what we do about it. You can drink yourself to death, like my mother did, or you can thrive."

Movement behind me makes me turn. Nick stands with his gun out, "Liv?"

"Georgina, give me the knife." looking back at Georgina, she looks into my eyes and holds the knife to her wrist. "Just put the knife down and we can talk."

She bites her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. Tossing the knife to my feet, she buries her head in her hands and cries. I kick the knife to Nick and sit beside Georgina, who turns and hugs me. I watch as Nick calls an ambulance and reports that we found her.

"Sometimes I really hate you." she laughs weakly, brushing her hair from her face.


	10. Chapter 10

_I just got back from the hospital, my arms in bandages. _

_Olivia said she'd keep quiet about what I told her in the alley until we talk it over. She said a lot of things earlier too...and I want to believe her, but I'm a realist. _

_I keep thinking, what if Olivia's right? What if I can recover?  
_

_Every single time I look her in the eyes, I see her over Fishling's shoulder, chained to that brick wall in the dimly lit room. _

My phone lights up and begins to vibrate, bringing my attention away from my diary. I put down my pen and tap the answer button.

"Hello?" I respond. It must be at least 10pm.

"It's Detective Benson," Olivia replies.

"Oh," I say, fiddling with my pen lid. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to check in on you. Didn't think you'd be sleeping much tonight."

I almost laugh, "I don't sleep much anymore, period. You seem to be doing pretty well, though."

"Nothing happened to me." she replies simply, as if nothing _did _happen.

"He drugged, kidnapped and bruised you." I hiss, "So don't act like I'm the only one he screwed over that day. Besides, what kind of sick pervert makes someone watch a kid get rapped?"

"Have you tried counseling? Most people finds it helps a lot." she suggests, though I know she's changing the subject away from her.

I purse my lips, "No, I haven't."

"It's something to consider." she says, somewhat firmer. She then remains quiet.

After a few moments, I sigh, "You already know why I did it, Olivia, so you can stop acting like it was heroic."

"I think it was - everyone thinks it was." she replies, "You were brave and he was a coward. You don't have to feel afraid or ashamed about what happened or what I saw."

My breathing hitches as I murmur, "You watched him rape me, Olivia. I don't know what I feel."

"You _will _survive this, Georgina."


	11. Chapter 11

Five Years Later

_Wow, it's been a while. I never thought I'd see one of my old diaries again. The last time I wrote in this, it was the day I last saw Detective Benson._

_I haven't heard from her since...but I've read a few articles mentioning her. For some reason, I kept the card with her number on; guess I thought that maybe some day I might need her again. I should really burn this before Jordan finds it and reads it...it'd kill me._

_Knowing him, he'd get off on the details about what Fishling did to me when I was twelve. Don't ask how I ended up with him...I'd be too ashamed to tell you. Too late to turn back now, though. I'm carrying his kid. _

_It sickens me to think that a child would have to grow up around him. _

_Maybe I should give Olivia a call. For the baby's sake._

* * *

The smell of alcohol lingers on his breath. He forcefully presses his lips to mine and I remain still, already knowing the consequences of recoiling or flinching. His presence alone makes my last meal crawl up my throat.

I should've left him while I had the chance.

We used to be the perfect couple; everyone called us Romeo and Juliet. When was began to get intimate - when I finally took down the barriers I've had up for half a decade - he started becoming rough. At first I told myself it was new, and new can be exciting, so I let him become rougher each time. After I tested positive on a pregnancy test, he became a control freak. I wasn't allowed outside the house without him and I wasn't allowed friends. My mom died of lung cancer last August and my dad hasn't spoken to me since after he divorced my mom, so I was left alone with _him_.

Thankfully, Judith went to a loving foster family. I haven't seen my little sister for seven months.

Jordan pulls away, giving me an evil drunken grin. I force a polite smile, though my body craves a cold shower to cry in.

"How's my kid?" he slurs, his hand roughly grabbing my stomach. I know tomorrow they'll be finger shaped bruises.

"Alive." I say, feeling he kick his hand, as if he wants to get away from him too. Apart of me wishes my baby would die before birth, just to save him from the abuse of his cruel father and the tears of his beaten mother.

Luckily, alcohol always makes Jordan tired. I find him passed out on the bedroom floor ten minutes later, so I decide to make a decision that will either be my best or worst.

* * *

Det. Olivia Benson  


"Liv," I look up from my mountain of paperwork to find Nick standing in the squadroom doorway. He looks as if he hasn't slept for days. "You should go home. It's now Wednesday."

Looking at the clock, it reads 00:54.

I stand up and grab my coat, saying, "Crap, I promised Brain I'd be home by midnight." as I walk towards Nick, who's already starting to walk down the hallway, the phone on desk begins to ring. Nick raises an eyebrow at me.

"Who'd ring this late?" he asks. Returning to the phone, I press it to my ear.

"Benson." in the background, I hear water running, like a tap or a shower.

"Olivia?" a young woman replies, her voice quiet but frightened.

Turning the phone to speaker, Amaro approaches, "What's your name?" I ask.

"It's Georg-"

Another voice, male, interrupts her by yelling, "Who are you talking to? Don't make me hit him!" whimpers follow, then the line goes dead. Looking up, I see Nick leaning over his desk and looking at his computer.

"Apartment on 148th street." he says, starting towards the exit. I follow, my mind racing.

"I know that voice." I admit, pushing the button to call the elevator. "I know that voice from somewhere. George..."

Nick asks, "George Huang?"

We get into the elevator when it arrives and he pushes the button for the ground floor.

"What's the connection with the woman to Huang?" I wonder aloud.

"She seemed to know you. Old friend called George? Or...a Georgina?"

It takes a heartbeat of silence before the name hits me. My mouth hangs slightly open and my eyes drop to the floor.

I nod, "Yeah. Georgina Hudson. Kidnapped and raped twice five years ago." I pause, "I was there."


	12. Chapter 12

Jordan bounds me to the iron frame bed using rope, something that I'm familiar with. Straddling my waist, he cuts off my clothes with a kitchen knife.

"How _dare_ you go behind my back like that. _Who were you talking to__?_" he growls.

"Anne called." I lie, hoping he won't see through it. My eyes try not to watch the knife move in his hand. Pain cuts into my left thigh from the cold surface of the blade.

"You're lying." he sneers, "Anne thinks you're a whore. They all do; they told me all about your sick, twisted little adventures with Charlie Fishling."

My body freezes and my eyes begin to fill with tears.

I shake my head vigorously, "No, no, he raped me."

"That's what you always say about men who _pay _you for cheap sloppy sex." Jordan says as tears spill from my eyes. How could he even find out about Fishling? I never told him or anyone in over four years.

As he digs the blade deeper into my skin, forcing screams from my mouth that he muffles by his hand, I hear a yell from the door.

"NYPD!" it's a voice I've been dying to hear for years.

Straining my voice, I scream louder. Jordan takes the blade from inside my skin and uses the handle to hit my skull repeatedly, growling at me to be quiet. He gets up from the bed when the front door slams open. The seconds past by slowly. My ears are ringing and my vision begins to blur.

"Georgina?" I see Olivia's face in front of me. Someone else is beside her, untying the ropes around my wrists. Three word escapes my lips before everything turns to darkness.

"Olivia, you came."

* * *

Det. Olivia Benson  


Her eyes close and her head drops to the side. Glancing back at my partner, I see the perp is leaning against the wall, grinning while being cuffed by Nick. Taking off my jacket, I place it over her bare body.

"Call a bus!" I yell. My fingers search for a pulse in her neck and I find it. "Still got a pulse."

I untie her ankles and look at the girl I knew years ago. Her hair falls evenly to rest on her shoulders, her face and body older than before. She must be about seventeen by now, though she looks malnourished. Cuts and bruises cover her skin and I notice a pool of wet blood pooling around her thigh. I keep pressure on it until the medics arrive, who push me aside.

"You go with her. I'll take his ass in." Nick tells me, pushing the perp out the front door. As Georgina is put on a stretcher and lifted into the ambulance, I watch in apprehension. I sit beside her as the ambulance begins to move. Giving one of the medics a brief explanation of what happened, Georgina begins to stir.

Her eyes slowly open and she turns to me, asking, "Olivia?"

"Yeah, I'm here Georgina." I say softly, "Do you know who did this to you?"

"Jordan...he got so abusive, Olivia. I wanted to get away but..." she goes silent.

"Is Jordan your boyfriend?"

The corner of her mouth twitches, "It's a long story."

"Okay. You're gonna be okay."

* * *

Continued P.O.V

"Detective Benson?" a doctor stands in the hospital corridor, his face displaying relief. My partner, who stands against a plain green wall beside me, looks at me with concern.

I hold up my badge for a moment before asking, "How's Georgina?"

"Multiple broken ribs and blows to the head." he looks down at a clipboard and reads, "Concussion, bruising on her stomach, arms and thighs. Rope marks around her wrists and ankles, a stab wound on her left thigh. Vaginal trauma and anal tearing are present, as are fluids. Rape kit has been done and she's awake. I'll wanna keep her and her baby in for close observation, though.

I raise my eyebrows, "Baby?"

"About seven months along. I'm surprised it survived."

"Is she awake?" I ask.

He nods, "Room 130."

"Thank you."

Walking down the hallway, my mind buzzes with questions. _How did Georgina end up like this? _I find the door with the three silver numbers on and push it open slowly, bracing myself. She lays in the hospital bed with needles in her inner elbow, her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," I smile, "How do you feel?"

"I'm...okay. I'm just glad you found me." she smiles, her eyes bright. Her body is painted with bruises and cuts, making me wonder if I've ever seen her without wounds. Her smile quickly fades as she sighs, "I guess you wanna know what happened, huh?"

"Yeah, I would." I say, sitting on the chair beside the bed.

She chuckles and shakes her head, "Where do I even start?"

"Try the beginning."

"Right." her eyes fall to her hands as her fingers tangle in the blanket over her. "Well, you already know what happened five years ago. After that night in the alley? Things became a blur; it was like time sped up and before I knew it, I was leaving for college with this new, _perfect _boyfriend." she smiles sadly before looking up into my eyes, "And I'm going to be blunt about it, Olivia; we started having sex and he started getting rough. At first I gave consent, until he started ignoring me and just using my body. He calls me degrading names in public, hits me, ties me up for days at a time. After he made me drop out of college, I wanted out. When I told him, he got so mad he tied me up for a whole week with next to no food and water."

"It's okay. What he did to you was not your fault." I remind her, though I know she's heard it all before. "Georgina, he's never going to hurt you again."


	13. Chapter 13

Det. Nick Amaro

Pushing our perp into an interrogation room at the station, I turn to find Tuotola looking him up and down in the doorway. I follow him out, watching the man through the one-way glass.

"Liv called us in. Said you'd be here." Fin says, walking towards the monitors displaying Georgina's picture and name. "That the vic?"

"Yeah. Georgina Hudson. From the Fishling case a few years ago." I explain.

Fin looks at me without a questioning look, "The sick perv who kidnapped Liv?"

"Yeah, but Fishling was executed." I say, "We got a call and went to check it out. She was tied and abused and we caught him the in act. Liv's at Mercy taking her statement."

"Go meet her. I'll take our rapist." he assures me, heading towards interrogation. I don't argue with him; Liv could probably do with the extra support on this case.

* * *

I almost want to laugh; I know rape is never the victim's fault, but this? This _was _my fault. I stayed with Jordan and that was _my_ decision. He might get convicted for assault, but what he did beside the bruises probably never happened as far as any Jury's concerned.

"Try saying something I can believe." I counter, gazing into Olivia's dark eyes. A man with dark hair stands in the doorway, though I faintly remember him as her partner. I don't react to his presence. "I just...I don't think _anyone's_ going to believe me a _second_ time."

"I believe you." she says calmly, "Some women are sexually assaulted more than once. It happens."

Looking away, a rush of guilt floods me at the realization. Olivia was assaulted all those years ago; I remember seeing it in the paper and on the news. Maybe those two times weren't the only times something happened to her. Maybe she's had it much worse.

"Tell me what happened." her voice brings me from my thoughts and back to the hospital room. Her eyes watch me closely, awaiting my response.

I sigh, "That bastard got me pregnant. I know most people don't usually know what to do, but I did; I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. The next time he left for work, I was going to pack my bag and report him...but he drugged me." I point to between my toes, where small needle marks reside. "He didn't want anyone to notice if I ever had to go to a doctor. He always talked about how his baby boy was going to be just like his father...I wanted to throw up whenever he so much as mentioned _my _baby." I pause, "Is he okay? Or...she?"

"Yeah. The doctor said you're baby's fine." she assures me. I allow a small smile to form on my lips.

"Good..." I say, though what my grandmother once told me about Olivia's mom, Serena, resurfaces from the back of my mind; she told me that the baby's father wasn't a good man. I wonder why.

The corner of Olivia's mouth twitches before she asks, "What's on your mind, Georgina? Any detail you can remember is really important."

"I...I'm thinking about what I'm going to have to tell my baby when he's older. About how his mother was beaten and raped countless times by two different men. One of them being his biological father." I admit. "I'm barely eighteen, Olivia."

"You don't have to do this alone. There's counseling and support groups set up to help domestic abuse and sexual assault victims."

Tears well up in my eyes and soon are running down my cheeks, my hands attempting to wipe them away.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I haven't really had a good cry for a while."

"You're a fighter." she reveals a hint of a smile, "You and your baby are going to get through this together."

I lay a palm flat on my stomach and joke, my eyes still wet with tears, "A couple months and you can tell that to him yourself." I bite my lip and continue, "He'll see that not everyone in this world is bad."

* * *

I left the hospital a few days later after Olivia helped me find a hotel with tight security. She gave me another card with her phone number on it, telling me that the other was bagged up as apart of the crime scene. I watched the sun set in the horizon outside my window that evening.

"I don't think I've ever been so alone." my breathing hitches and I bury my head in the blanket wrapped around me. I cringe when the soft material comes in contact with the bruises Jordan left. The doctor had said I'll have a concussion for a few more days, and to use the burn cream I was given for my wrists and ankles. My thigh wound has stitches that will eventually dissolve on their own.

I feel a kick inside me, making me both smile and cry. "I'm okay." I mumble, a hand on my stomach. Sudden pain ripples through my body, a gush of fluids puddling below me.

"Oh, no, no, no..." I fumble for the phone in my jean pocket and call the one number saved.

After four rings, a familiar voice answers, "Benson."

Untangling myself from the blanket, I say, "Olivia, he's coming. My baby's coming."


	14. Chapter 14

Det. Olivia Benson

"Benson." I answer, clicking the pen in my hands. Paperwork and case files clutter my desk. Lack of sleep begins to catch up to me as I sip from a coffee cup.

"Olivia, he's coming. My baby's coming." a woman replies, who's panicked voice I recognize as Georgina Hudson.

"Okay, calm down. Have you called an ambulance?" I ask, setting down the cup.

Pulling on my coat, she replies, "No. No, I haven't. My water's just broke."

"Wait at the hotel. I'm on my way." she ends the call a moment after. Nick looks at me from across the room. "Georgina's water just broke." I explain.

"She still at Mercy?" he asks.

"No, she was discharged this morning. I'm taking her now." I say, heading through the corridor and towards the elevator. I don't wait for Nick as the elevator doors close behind me. I can take this call alone.

* * *

Someone knocks on my door a few minutes after eleven. "Georgina, it's Detective Benson."

Slowly and carefully, I get up and open the door. Olivia stands with her hair in a messy bun.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," I say, grabbing my coat and locking the hotel room door behind me. "Thanks for coming, though."

"I was already awake anyway." she assures me. "Let's get you back to Mercy so you can have this baby." the sparkle in her eyes still remains. I grab her arm for support as we walk towards the elevator.

"I'm terrified, Olivia." I admit. "This is gonna hurt like hell."

"You'll be okay. The doctors will give you something for the pain when we get there. Just keep breathing." she says softly, though her last comment makes me laugh.

I smile, "I don't plan on stopping breathing anytime soon."

* * *

The time passed quickly. I went into labor at 01:00, then gave birth to my baby _girl_ at 02:34. Olivia stayed, not leaving my side for more than ten minutes at a time. When nurses tried to usher her out of the room when I first started pushing, I told them I refused to give birth without her by my side, seeing as she's the closest I have to family. I haven't even heard from Judith's foster parents for years; she could be dead for all I know.

Nurses passed me my baby as soon as she was born, her tiny body wrapped in a blanket. Her cries fill the room after the umbilical cord is cleanly cut.

"Hey there, little one." I smile, tears in my eyes. With a needle pumping painkillers and fluids into my body, the pain feels almost gone. Hope fills my mind and a mix of adrenaline and fatigue fills my body. "Welcome to Earth. We've been expecting you." I laugh.

"She's beautiful." Olivia comments, smiling.

"Yeah, she is." I say proudly.

A nurse smiles, asking me, "Have you thought of a name yet?"

I nod, "Yeah, actually, I have."


	15. Chapter 15

Det. Olivia Benson

After leaving the Mercy at three-thirty the morning Cecelia had been born, I had gone home and slept on the sofa, not wanting to wake Brian. He had text me at midnight, saying he had returned from his six week undercover operation, though when I told him I was at Mercy with a vic giving birth, he said he was going to crash and to wake him when I got home. I didn't want to wake him, though. Before sleeping, I had also checked on a sleeping Noah, who was curled up in his bed.

My phone ringing woke us both up. Sitting up, I answered.

"Detective Benson."

"Sorry, Detective. I must have the wrong number. This is Mercy Hospital calling. I'm trying to locate..." she pauses, "Miss Georgina Hudson's family."

"Her mostly family are deceased, beside an infant in foster care. Though I was present for Georgina's birth."

A topless Brian sleepily smiles and sits down beside me, briefly kissing my temple.

The woman sighs, "Then I'm sorry to inform you, but Miss Hudson died this morning of blood loss and fatigue. My condolences."

I turn to Brian, who looks puzzled. Tears prick my eyes as I ask, "How is her baby?"

"She's healthy. Children's Services are going to pick her up this afternoon and place her in foster care."

I say, "Okay, thank you." the woman then hangs up and I set down my phone beside me.

"Is everything okay?" my boyfriend asks and I embrace him. He doesn't question me any further, and instead, lets me cry into his bare chest.

* * *

Custody of Cecelia Hudson was shortly awarded to me, just like Noah had been nearly six years ago. Five year old Judith and imprisoned for life Jordan Kenith was noted as being the only family Cecelia had left, since both Jordan and Georgina's parents were dead, imprisoned or didn't want her. Brian and Noah were both happy to have another child in the house. I had taken a couple weeks off work to look after Cecelia, and to recover from losing Georgina; I owed her for what she did years ago and the least I could do was raise her daughter right.

* * *

_Not everyone in this world is bad._

* * *

"Where am I?"

"Miss Hudson,"

"Where's my baby? Where's Cecelia?"

"Miss Hudson, we have recently learnt that you have become the target of a large slavery ring called P-3-DO, for escaping and imprisoning Jordan Kenith. To keep you alive, we have had to relocate you and give you a new identity, look, past, home, job and family."

"What about Cecelia?"

"She died shortly before we could relocate you. I'm sorry."

"Oh god-"


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm not so much worrying about the logic of things in this fanfic, so some things may seem illogical, but that's fine. It's currently set in 2031, which sounds insane. I'm writing this fanfic because I've never written anything as dark and painful as rape, which is a topic I wish people would treat more seriously. This fanfic is only to raise awareness of how life-changing (in the worst way possible) domestic abuse and sexual assault are. If you'd wish to talk to me about my fanfic or the topic, just PM me and I'll respond as soon as I can. Thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favorites and/or follows my fanfics as I greatly appreciate it.  
**

* * *

Twelve Years Later

"Benson," I yawn, looking into the darkness around me. Brian snores softly beside me.

"Looks like we got another P-3-DO vic. 43rd street." Nick explains on the other side of the phone. Turning on the lamp on my nightstand, I run my fingers through my hair, trying to make it look presentable. Luckily, I fell asleep in my jeans and top.

"Okay. I'm on my way." I say, pulling on my shoes.

Before I can hang up, he murmurs, "Liv?"

"Yeah?" I reply, pushing the gun, handcuffs and badge from my nightstand draw into my belt. Usually the draw is locked with a combination only I know, but I must've forgot earlier. The rapist and murderous group P-3-DO have been striking every week for the last two months, killing off their "slaves", so everyone has been working overtime. They surfaced after Georgina Hudson - Cecelia's birth mother - died. After sending threats to kill Cecelia, she was placed under mine and Brian's care, as well as having a babysitter with no past jail time, no accusations, and only the best education and manners. It all sounded snobby to me to begin with, but it was either that or she goes into WPP. Lately, P-3-DO have even been sending threats to kill Georgina, even though she died over a decade ago.

"Make sure Cece's alright." Nick says slowly, than hangs up, leaving me confused. Cecelia hasn't been in any trouble lately, or had any problems, so his sudden concern startles me. Grabbing my coat, I turn off the lamp and start towards Noah's room. Four foam blue letters are glued to the wooden door. I open it quietly, not wanting to wake him. He lays asleep under his duvet, exhausted, so I leave him and check on Cecelia, who has seven foam pink letters on her door. When I open the door, her light is on and she's sitting on top of her duvet covers. Her body is slouched against the wall, lack of sleep obviously catching up to her. Her dark hair is tied into a ponytail and she clutches a photo frame in her hands.

"Can't sleep?" I ask softly, and she flinches. Turning to me, her face is red and blotchy.

"I didn't mean to wake you up." she wipes the tears from her face and I close the door.

Sitting down beside her, I ask, "What's wrong?" she passes me the photo frame, silver butterflies around the picture. The picture is of her mother, her dark hair lining her face and her eyes bright green. Her forehead and cheek were beginning to scar, but there will still signs of life in her eyes. She must have been nearly thirteen at the time. I told Cece about her biological mother a few years back and given her the picture for Georgina's sixth anniversary.

"I wish I'd known her." Cece sighs. "I'll never know what she was like...or even what her favourite color was."

"She was...smart and," I pause for a moment, trying to think of words to describe what she did during Fishling's assault. "Thoughtful. Heroic. She was a fighter."

Cecelia still didn't know about Fishling or Kenith, and I don't intend on telling her for a few more years. Her mother not actually being her biological mother was difficult enough to accept right now, let alone that her father was a rapist and murderer involved in a group I'm _still _trying to stop. She hadn't yet asked if Brian was her biological father.

After a moment of silence, she says, "So let me guess, duty calls?"

I nod, frowning in response.

"Tell Nick I said hi." she forces a smile that I know is for my sake. She inherited Georgina's bravery. She sets down the picture on her nightstand and I pull her duvet over her. "Night, mom."

"Night, Cece." I whisper back, flicking off the lights when I leave and shutting the door behind me. Pulling on my coat, I grab my keys and leave.

* * *

When I arrive at the crime scene, blue and red flashing lights fill the air. I park my car on a nearby curve and attach my badge to my coat, making it easily visible. Pushing past people and ducking under the yellow police tape, I see a body under a plastic blue sheet. Nick waves me towards him when he sees me.

"Cece alright?" he asks and I stare in horror at what in painted on red on the wall before us.

_We know she's alive, Det. Benson._

"Yeah," I breathe. "Uh...who's the vic?"

"Another Jane Doe." he says and we approach the body. Melinda Warner crouches beside the victim, who's face is dead cold. She looks up at us, her dark hair pulled into a casual ponytail.

"Cause of death?" I ask, looking at the lifeless body. Her skin is pale, her hair blonde and her eyes closed. Thick chain marks are imprinted onto her neck.

"Strangulation. Rigor suggests she's been her for maybe five to six hours. Raped and beaten pre-mortem." Melinda points to a half-exposed burn on the vic's chest. "Cigarette burns to her breasts, stomach and thighs. Some of them are old scars."

My mouth hangs slightly open, "She was abused for years."

"P-3-DO?" Nick asks.

"You'd have to wait until I've done the autopsy report, but I'd say so." she nods.

* * *

Pinning the newest vic's picture to the whiteboard, I sigh. Me, Amaro, Rollins, Tuotola, Novak and Huang all stand, sit or slouch, all of us exhausted and annoyed. There are nearly no new leads and the public are more terrified with each passing week. I can't step outside the precinct without a microphone or camera being shoved in my face.

I decide to begin going back over what we know so far. Pointing to vic number one, I say, "Jess Garcia. Age twenty-one. Moved here from Spain in 2015. Reported missing in Manhattan in 2021."

"Yeah. No sightings of her for ten years until she's strangled to death." Amanda nods. "_You have started a war_ was written on the note in her ear."

I point to vic number two, "Anastasia Morzeek. Age twenty-one. Russia to Manhattan in 2015. Went missing in 2021. Turns up dead a week after Jess. _We will not stop_ was written on her note."

Fin stands up straight and gestures to vic number three. "Francine-Maria Leesa. French. Same age, same location, same year, same death. Sick bastard wrote _We are P-3-DO_. Short for pedophile."

"Vic number four." I point to her photo. "Another brunette born in another country, moved to Manhattan in 2015 at the age of six, went missing in 2021 at the age of eleven, strangled to death at the age of twenty-one. The note in her ear said _W__e want the Jordan's bitch_." I tap Jordan Kenith's picture, "He's at Sing Sing doing life for multiple counts of physical and sexual assault on Georgina Hudson, who died after giving birth to twelve years ago."

"Your daughter?" Casey asks and I nod.

"A protective detail was put on her until we got the fifth vic and note, which demanded _Georgina_. We went public, informing everyone that the woman that P-3-DO was demanding died twelve years ago, saying that she died of exhaustion and blood loss, making sure nobody knew about Cecelia." I explain.

Nick comments, "The next note claimed we were lying. Me and Liv even checked with the FBI to see if they had put her in WPP."

The next picture was the one the FBI had given us of Georgina, her face pale and lifeless, her eyes closed.

I continue, "The seventh note was a pregnancy scan of Cecelia at four months. We checked to see who had visited Kenith within the last few months, but _nobody_ had."

"What about a detail on Cece?" Nick suggests.

"Cassidy isn't working until we shut down P-3-DO. If things get worse, she'll go into WPP." I explain, suppressing a sigh. She'd be under tight supervision, but the thought is heartbreaking.

"What else do we know?" Fin asks, sitting down on the chair behind my desk, since it's closest to the whiteboard.

"Well, all the vics were kidnapped ten years ago." Amanda responds, "All brunette, all strangled, all had a note, all from Europe, all twenty-one."

I frown, "The only known member is Jordan Kenith, who confirmed it but won't talk."

"He wouldn't take a deal." Casey adds. "I got him a cozy place in solitary confinement until he does."


	17. Chapter 17

Warner calls me and Amaro the following morning, telling us she's done the autopsy and has something that could help with the case. Our Jane Doe turned out to be Lili Danko, a Hungarian-born twenty-one year old who was kidnapped ten years ago from her home in Manhattan. Nine women had been a sex slave for ten years before being strangled to death and dumped in the middle of Manhattan, but we're still no closer to even knowing where P-3-DO are, how many there are or who they are. All we know is that they want Georgina and they won't stop until they get her. Did she know who P-3-DO are?

When we walk into the room, I see a body on the metal table, a blue sheet over it. Melinda, dressed in her usual get-up, smiles when she sees us.

"Morning," she says, walking towards the body. "I found something I thought you'd want to hear about."

"Did you find a note?" I ask, approaching the metal table. The M.E uncovers Lili Danko's pale face.

"Yeah. That's what killed her." she walks towards a counter, which holds a small silver tray with a few pieces of paper. She uses a pair of tweezers to hold up the pieces of paper one by one. "She look familiar to you?" she asks rhetorically, frowning.

"Cecelia." I sigh. The pictures are of her walking home from school with Brian. He always meets her around the corner from her school, since she said she didn't want people knowing she walks home with her dad, but we both insisted on someone walking with her. After a few minutes of negotiation, we came to the agreement of dropping her off and meeting her at the corner. That way, we can at least watch to make sure she gets to school without a problem. Her life has been strict the last couple months. One she saw the news reports, she understood.

"I found them in her throat. She chocked to death on them." Melinda confirms. "The chain marks were from up to twelve hours before she died."

"Any prints?" Nick asks and she nods.

"Whoever put them down her throat wore gloves made of sheep's wool. The fibers were in her mouth."

I say, "They were on a couple of the vics."

"I didn't finish." she replies, turning back to the counter. We both step closer and watch as she sprays one of the pictures with a liquid from a spray bottle. "I found this," a clear thumbprint surfaces. "I ran it through the system. You'll never guess who it belongs to."

"Kenith?" I ask.

"No," she shakes her head. "Georgina Hudson." we all stay silent for a moment and I run my hand through my hair. I feel like someone punched me in the gut.

"She died twelve years ago." I say breathlessly, my mouth hanging open in shock.

"Apparently ghosts have learned to leave fingerprints behind." she jokes. "They're definitely fresh. Less than a week old."

* * *

Savannah Morris: Four Days Ago  


I sit down at my usual table at the far end of the cafe and order my usual coffee. Glancing at my digital watch, it reads 08:52. I'm early.

Dean doesn't arrive until 09:05, when I'm sipping my coffee and reading a newspaper. I don't usually read them, since they're so depressing, but it was a New York paper. I only notice him when he's grabbing the paper out of my hands and tossing it to an empty nearby table.

"That's not a good idea." he says, sitting down on the chair opposite me. The cafe is quiet and mostly empty, since it's a Sunday morning. I frown at the dark-haired man.

"You're an ass." I say bluntly. "Can I request a new agent?"

"No. You can't." he counters. Glancing around, he asks, "Any trouble lately?"

I laugh, "You never get any better at this."

"At what?"

"At not looking like you're a _Federal_ _agent_." I reply quietly, because I really don't want to have to transfer identities again. Dean is the assigned agent I have to report to once a week, since I've been in Witness Protection for the last decade. I keep him informed and he keeps me informed, which is an agreement we established the first time I accidentally said my name was Georgina Hudson. Every time I slip up, I have to move to another state and take over a new name and life. My real name is Georgina, though I was Jackie Fisher in Kentucky for a month until I accidentally forgot my last name. I then had to become Angel Louise Jennerson in Ohio for five years, but an old school friend identified me and I had to move again, becoming Jessica Monty for two years in Michigan. I'm currently Savannah Morris in Virginia, but Dean mentioned last week I may be at risk again.

He looks at me with a serious expression. "You need to prepare yourself for a possible move."

"They still think I'm alive?" I ask, sipping my coffee. He told me that P-3-DO have been sending threats to kill me since Jordan was put in jail, but I was announced dead due to complications during childbirth. My baby was pronounced dead too, but she really _is_ deceased.

"As long as you keep your head down, you should be fine." he assures me. "Call me if anyone identifies you or seems suspicious. Don't put it down to paranoia."

"I know the drill; I'm hanging by a thread." I nod. "No early morning or late nights. No alleyways. No strangers. No car. Report anything that seems odd, day or night."

"Good." he says. "And report in every morning until further notice."

I groan, "Fine." before he leaves.

A few minutes after I've finished my coffee, at 09:23 (according to my watch), I leave with the New York newspaper stuffed in my purse. What doesn't Dean want me to see?


	18. Chapter 18

Savannah Morris: Three Days Ago

"Porter." he answers after two rings. Sitting down on the sofa, I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Morning." I say. "I'm still alive. Can I hang up now?"

He laughs. "Any trouble lately?"

"Only with this ass of an agent." I hiss, pulling a nearby blanket over me. "I'd like to make a formal complaint."

"Denied." he replies.

"Informal complaint?"

"Denied." he repeats with a hint of a laugh. A sudden noise from outside my front door silences me. "Savannah?"

"Shh." I murmur. Standing up, I grab the screwdriver I left on the coffee table the other day. I leave the blanket on the sofa and approach the front door. The noise is coming from the lock; they're trying to pick it.

"Savannah?" he calls, quieter this time. Quietly, I slip into the kitchen, drop the screwdriver, grab my coat and shoes, and slip out the backdoor.

Pulling on my shoes and coat, I say, "Someone picked my front door. I'm-" something hits me over the back of the head, knocking me to the ground.

"Savannah!" I hear from the phone I must've dropped. "Backup's on the way."

* * *

After talking to Warner, I tell Nick to see if Georgina's left any other signs of life while I talk to Cecelia. Heading towards the break room, I dial Brian's number.

Three rings later, he answers, "Cassidy."

"It's Liv. I need you to bring Cecelia down to the precinct." I say, pushing the break room door open. Inside is filled with empty cots.

"Yeah, sure. What for?" he replies.

"She's apart of a case."

"The P-3-DO case?" his voice rises, showing obvious concern. Almost everyone in New York knows about the P-3-DO case; it's been in the news for weeks. Nobody wants to be apart of the case because nobody wants to be their next victim. We need to shut this group down and nail every sonofabitch in it before someone else dies.

I sigh, "Yeah. We found her picture stuffed down someone's throat with her _biological __mother's_ prints on it. She might have seen something out of the ordinary."

"God." he pauses, "We'll be there in ten." as I'm about to hang up, he says, "Hey, Liv,"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful." the line goes dead.

* * *

Georgina Hudson: Two Days Ago

While I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, I feel my wrists bound above my head by thick rope, barely holding my body a meter from the ground. The air is cold and footsteps echo around me.

"Georgina Hudson. First Charlie's bitch, then Jordan's. You certainly get around." the voice is close to my ear, breathing onto my neck; it's a harsh whisper from a man I don't recognize. A small blinking red light is straight ahead of me.

"She awake?" another man says from behind the red light, followed by the sound of a light switch. Light floods the room and I see the a man, the camera and the stone walls. "You have an audience." the blonde haired man gives a toothless grin, gesturing to the camera.

Another man, whose hair and skin are darker, walks out from behind me, laughing, "We're live, Miss Hudson. Say hi." when I remain silent, I feel a fist connect with my jaw. "Silent type, huh? Aren't you going to ask where you are? Who we are?"

"I know who you are." I say, trying my hardest to keep my voice steady. "I'm not afraid of you."

"What about Cecelia? Do you think she's afraid of us?" he hisses.

Keeping my eyes focused on the red blinking light, I reply, "Fearlessness is in her veins."

"She's half rapist." the blonde man growls. "Half criminal. Half abusive." he laughs, "Half Jordan Kenith."

"She's not Jordan." I snap. "And she's not afraid of _cowards _like you. Hiding behind dead girls...I read _all about it_ in the paper. About how P-3-DO are _terrorizing _the city, demanding someone who died twelve years ago. About how you were threatening the dead girl's _daughter_."

"Said the woman who's been hiding behind the FBI for the last twelve years." the other man says, his hands roaming my sides and stomach. I haven't felt so revolted for years.

"What do you even want with me? Revenge?" I purse my lips and keep my eyes locked, my breathing steady, "Go ahead. Kill me."

"Oh Georgina," he curls a strand of my hair around his finger. "We just want you to _enjoy_ your final days."

* * *

At around midnight, I decide to I sleep in the crib, too exhausted to drive home. Cecelia knew nothing about her stalker, so the only lead we have is Georgina. The FBI are claiming to know nothing about her sudden reappearance, but none of us are buying it. All these years, I've told Cecelia that her mother was dead, but all along she's been in hiding. The whole situations reeks of the Feds, but we can't prove it. She could be anywhere, under any name, and I can't do a damn thing about it. What am I supposed to tell Cece? _Yeah, so it turns out that your mom is alive but she can't resurface until I've solved this case, and that could take decades._

The next thing I remember is Nick calling for me from the doorway.

"Liv, you gotta see this." he eagerly starts down the hallway, barely waiting for me. I jog for a moment to catch up.

"New lead?" I ask as we enter the squadroom. Amanda and Fin are standing in front of the monitors, looks of concern of their faces.

"Think we found the dead girl." Fin says and I approach the monitors. A woman is hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, a man in a mask sodomizing her. The walls around her are stone; probably a basement. Piecing it together, my mouth hangs slightly open and I have to force myself to breathe steadily.

"It's live video feed from a website called 'GeorginaIsn'tDead' dot com. Nick found it when he ran her name through Google. We're trying to get a location." Amanda explains, and I feel sick to my stomach. I've seen things like this before, but I know this woman; I've been raising her daughter for twelve years and I was the lead detective on both of her cases.

"Send Warner the website and see if she can assess her condition." I instruct. "We're sure it's Georgina?" Fin turns the sound on and my gut wrenches at the words said.

"Think Cecelia is fearless now, eh Georgina? Or shall I call you Savannah Morris? Or Jessica Monty? Angel Jennerson? Jackie Fisher? Yeah, that's right. We've been watching you _all this time_. You're precious Dean can't protect you."

"Run those names through the data base. Check every state. Phone records, family, friends, arrests, financial records, houses, cars, anything you can find. Find Dean and get him in interrogation." I say and everyone runs back to their computer or to the file room. "This guy was stupid enough to give us names. He's stupid enough to have slipped up more than once."

"Wait, Liv," Fin calls to me, "She's under the Feds. Dean's-"

"Dean Porter." I finish. "_Dean can't protect you_. He's her assigned agent." rushing towards my office, I feel my heartbeat in my throat. In my desk I find a book with Dean's mobile number in and dial it.

"Porter." his voice sounds stressed, so he could already know about Georgina's abduction.

"Sargent Benson. Manhattan Special Victims." I explain. We haven't spoken since he helped me with a case in 2018 involving a victim who was raped while undercover.

"Olivia." he sounds shocked. "How can I help you?"

"Give me Georgina's last known location." I know it's a long shot.

"You'll have to be more specific. I know a lot of Georgina's." I know he's lying through his teeth.

I snap, "How many of them were abducted recently?"

"That's classified." he replies. "You know that."

"I also know that she's on one of my monitors being raped _live_ as we speak, and I know you were her assigned agent."

"This isn't your case."

I purse my lips, "She's been kidnapped by P-3-DO, which makes it my case."

"With all due respect, Sargent, we'll be taking it from here." he says.

"I'm not handing this case to the Feds. Cecelia is under my care and P-3-DO is my case. You can argue all you want about it, but this woman is out there being raped and beaten. They're not going to keep her alive for much longer." I growl. If IAB wants to take away my shield, they can go ahead. I need to get this woman home to her daughter.


End file.
